And now the door on his right hand opened, and little Mistress Marry-me-quick appeared with our supper. She saw the sword directed at the breast of the one man on earth she loved with all the fervour of her honest, womanly heart. The sight scattered her senses. With a nerve-racking shriek she flopped heavily to the floor, and the rabbit-stew flew from her hands and crashed loudly at his feet. It was too much for his wine-sodden nerves. His eyes turned, his body slackened, the point of his rapier flagged floorward. God had given me my second. I bounded at him, not straight, but somewhat to his left. He recovered, but, anticipating a straight rush, thrust clean out on the expected line of my leap. His blade ran through between my coat and waistcoat, and the guard thumped sore on my ribs. Then he was mine. I struck hard on heart and belt and knocked the wind out of his body. He sucked for breath like a drowning man. Now he could not call for help, and I finished him off, quickly, gladly, and smilingly. His twitching fingers fumbled at his belt as if seeking a pistol. Finding none, he made no further attempt to defend himself, and covered his face with his arms to keep off my blows, but I struck him with such fierce strength on his unprotected temples that he weakened and dropped them. His ghastly, bleeding face turned upwards, his dazed eyes pleading for the mercy he had denied her a moment ago. It was brute appealing to brute in vain, and with one last blow on the chin that drove his teeth together like the crack of a pistol and nearly tore his head off his shoulders, I knocked him senseless to the floor. His rapier hung in the skirt of my coat, so close had I been to sure and sudden death. I drew it out and tossed it to the floor at his side. "I wish, madam," said I, reaching out for mother's domino, "that we could have saved the rabbit-stew." "Is he dead?" she whispered, with white lips, coming forward and looking shudderingly down on him with troubled eyes. "No such luck," said I. "He may be round in five minutes, but that's enough, though poor little Marry-me-quick will have to be left to fend for herself." I helped her into the domino, pulled the hood over the wonderful hair, and seized my own hat. "Now, Mistress Waynflete," said I, "the northern halt of Staffordshire is before us, and the sooner some of it is behind us the better." With these words I led her to the door, which I closed carefully behind me, and into the street. A little explanation will make our subsequent movements clearer. The eastern side of Stafford is roughly bow-shaped. The main street is the straight string and the wood is the curve of the wall, now mostly fallen down and in ruins, the line of which was followed by the street we were in, and only some fifty yards from the southern end of the string. The marksman's thumb represents the market square, and the arrow the line of the east gate street.